


Dwell

by Vashti (tvashti)



Series: Thirst [3]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: All the parents - Freeform, Dingoes Ate My Baby, Family Feels, Family Secrets, Gen, Meet the Family, Meeting the Parents, Musician Feels, Musicians, Past Relationship(s), Pre-Iron Man 1, Real Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 06:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14710463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tvashti/pseuds/Vashti
Summary: “Happy, change of plans,” Tony said as he slid into the backseat of his car.“Sure thing.  Whatever you want, Boss,” he said, watching as Tony divested himself of suit and tie.  “What’re we doing?”“I don’t know what you’re doing, but I’m going to go watch my son’s band play at the local teeny-bopper bar.”Happy frowned.  “Uh, is that wise, Boss?”“Why is everyone always asking me that?"(Sequel to "Long" and "Ache".)





	Dwell

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbetaed, even by me. If you see anything (I have a bad habit of not putting question marks in, for instance) please let me know.

“Are you sure this is wise?” JARVIS asked again, speaking through the Bluetooth device in Tony’s ear.

“Probably not.” Tony tugged on the hem of his suit (which was sitting on him perfectly. It was bespoke. It cost a small fortune. Its sole purpose was to make him look awesome) and squared his shoulders. “But have I ever let a little thing like wisdom stop me before?”

“Never, sir.”

Tony snorted. He wasn’t always sure whether he should be annoyed or amused at his AI’s snarky sense of humor. Usually he settled somewhere closer to amused. Today it was another distraction.

The home he stood in front of could have been found in nearly any Californian suburb. Nothing about it struck him in particular. Certainly it was far less interesting than his mansion in Malibu or the half-deserted family properties in New York. The bright sunshine overhead was blocked by a modest porch. Late season insects and the sound of children playing before dinner were the background noise to the litany chasing itself around Tony’s head. Not that he actually knew what he was going to say, but, like wisdom, that hardly stopped his brain from going a mile a minute.

He turned suddenly and looked out on the street. The grass and walkway were still glistening from a late afternoon wash by the sprinkler system. The scent of warm wet earth and hot cement were surprisingly soothing. Tony took a deep breath, let it out, then turned and faced the wood and glass front door. 

The door actually had a knocker, so he used it. “JARV,” he said while he waited for someone to respond, or not, “do any of the properties still use and honest-to-God door knocker?”

“Only the mansion out on the Island, but a camera and remote locking system have been unobtrusively incorporated into the hardware and doorframe, respectively.”

“Oh. Okay. Wonder what it’d take to get Susan to update.”

“Perhaps you should start by asking her.”

As if she had been waiting for her cue, the door opened and there was Susan, her red hair glowing even in the porch’s shadow. Before Tony could say a word, she was stepping forward and pulling him into a tight embrace. By the time it occurred to him that he should break free, she had stepped back. “Good, you’re in time for dinner.”

Tony gaped at the woman standing half a head below him. “Wha—”

“I told Rich you’d get here before the show.” 

This time he only got as far as gaping before Susan shocked him again by pulling him inside. “Wha—”

Susan frowned at him. “You said that already, Tony. Come into the kitchen. Rich was finishing dinner when you rang the bell. Maybe you need some water. Why are you wearing a three-piece suit? I know it’s November, but this is still Southern California. That’s a lot of layers.”

“Oh my God, Susan! Have you changed at all?”

“Don’t think so. Come on.” She pirouetted and led him toward the rear of the house. They passed through a comfortable living room that may or may not have seen neater days. There were pictures on nearly every surface: desert sunsets, ocean curls, a surfer riding a tube, forests at dusk, children sleeping in puppy piles, black-and-whites of stages set up for a band, a theater stage empty save its ghost light, posed family shots, silly family shots, casual photos, grainy group photos, cheesy graduation pictures with and without full sets of teeth, obligatory school photos. 

When Susan noticed that Tony had stopped to look at an entire section of wall beside a small piano dedicated to these, she came back to him. “I pulled a bunch together for you, in case you wanted them.”

“I have. I mean…I mean I do,” he corrected himself as he tore his eyes away to look down into her blue eyes. They were as bright and clear as he remembered. “I was able to find some of them, but here a bunch here I don’t recognize.”

“No problem. And if you stick around or come back, you can have more.”

“Pictures?”

Susan shrugged. “Sure. Why not.”

Taking a step back from the wall, and from Susan, Tony shook his head. He plucked his sunglasses from his face with one hand and scrubbed his face with the other. “Why didn’t you ever tell me, Sue.”

“We had a…two-night stand? And when, after you had been avoiding me for a week, it turned out that I wasn’t going to be clingy or needy or writing programs that put our names together surrounded by digital hearts, you were the most happy human I’ve ever met? Let’s not rehash the very loud discussions you and Tomeo and Pajovic and, and…ugh what was that guy’s name…” Susan’s mile-a-minute ramble paused while she tried to remember. Before Tony could regroup she was waving a hand and moving on. “You guys used to go on and on about how much of a waste families and babies and children were on mental ability and physical resources. You were going to build robots and leave all the messy people and their problems behind.”

“I was nineteen years old, Sue!”

“So was I, Tony,” she said with a shrug. “But you already had two more degrees than I did, and you were in the middle of working on a third. What was I supposed to think your thoughts would be about me having your kid?”

“Sue—”

She held up both hands. “Tony, I’m not saying I was right.”

“It’s been almost twenty years.”

“And in that time you haven’t exactly been living a life that says you’ve changed your mind about families and babies. Or children and teenagers. Or responsibility in general.”

“Did you want to get married or something?”

“To you?” Susan laughed. Not at him, he thought, but at the very idea. “Do you see yourself ever getting married, Tony?”

“Well, no not really but—”

“Tony, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine! I had a right to know. We both did!”

A dark-haired man, taller than Tony with pale, washed out eyes appeared behind Susan. In one hand he held an open beer, and in the other he had a plate full of pigs-in-a-blanket. “Sue, let the man sit down and eat. We don’t have a lot of time before the show starts,” he said, bumping her gently. When she leaned up to kiss him, he leaned down to meet her.

“Sorry, Tony,” Susan said as she turned toward the kitchen. 

The man approached, holding out the beer for Tony to take. “Rich.”

“I figured. And I don’t like to be handed things.”

Rich set the beer and plate of finger foods down on the piano, closer to Tony than to himself. “Oz knows, by the way. He’s always known.”

“He— That doesn’t make me feel better, you know.”

Rich nodded, but didn’t otherwise reply. 

“So how long have you been in the picture?”

“There when he was born. Married when he was three.”

Tony noticed that they were about the same height, although Rich’s build was more wiry than his. “And you play the happy family man?”

A small smile pulled at Rich’s features. “I play a six-string. I play piano. That’s it.”

“Man of a few words, aren’t you,” Tony said before picking up and taking a swig of the beer on the piano.

The smile on Rich’s face never moved. “Yup.”

“So you’re a good for nothing musician?”

Tony would have thought that he’d finally gotten to the man when Rich turned on his heel and started walking away, except he indicated that Tony should follow him. 

“Sit there, Tony,” Susan said as both men approached the small kitchen table. Assuming the window bench held two, there was space for five, but only enough place settings for the three of them. Full plates and glasses were already at each setting. 

“I’m a very picky eater,” Tony said without bothering to look at what was actually on the white dinner plates. 

Susan laughed. “I remember. I’m pretty sure I’ve got you covered. Sit down, Tony. Even if you don’t eat anything, we should still talk.”

Frowning, he reluctantly eyed his options. The window seat would give him a view of the whole room, but also hem him in if/when he got tired of whatever Susan was about to tell him, and decided that he needed to leave. The head of the table would be ideal. And rude.

Tony sat at the head of the table. He didn’t miss the look that passed between the pair as Susan and Rich seating themselves around him – Rich with his back to the house at large, and Susan in the window seat.

“Is this New York style pizza?”

* * *

“Happy, change of plans,” Tony said as he slid into the backseat of his car.

“Sure thing. Whatever you want, Boss,” he said, watching as Tony divested himself of suit and tie. “What’re we doing?”

“I don’t know what you’re doing, but I’m going to go watch my son’s band play at the local teeny-bopper bar.”

Happy frowned. “Uh, is that wise, Boss?”

“Why is everyone always asking me that? And where did you hide my other clothes?” Tony groused as he rummaged around the immaculate, and empty, backseat. “No way I’m gonna be that guy.”

Happy placed a bag on the divider arm rest between the seats. “Whatever you say, Boss.” 

* * *

Tony leaned over to Rich. “They’re not horrible,” he shouted directly into the other man’s ear.

Rich laughed. With his chin, he indicated that Tony should pay attention to the band onstage.

The lead singer, some kid with a D-name, was leaning over his mic, crooning to the girls below the stage. Who were mostly falling for it. Oz, playing bass in the background, didn’t seem to notice.

“Are we sure that one’s my kid?”

Rich laughed harder. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wallet. Without looking, he flipped it open and shoved it in the general direction of Tony’s face.

Who stepped back so he could see the thing. It was a picture of Oz, more recent than not. He’d apparently decided to try facial hair. He’d started with a mustache and goatee. It wasn’t a lot of hair but—

Tony swore. “Fine! Whatever! Never mind!”

Rich flipped the wallet closed then put it away. 

* * *

“Hey, man, sorry for not recognizing you before,” Oz said as he stood before Tony and Rich. His body language was calm and relaxed. 

Arms crossed over his chest, Tony shook his head. “Not a problem.”

“Computers aren’t really my thing and--”

“Computers aren’t your thing?” Tony nearly spluttered. “You and that Rosa-chick have test scores that are through the roof.”

“Willow. Yeah. She’s smart. You should hire her.”

Frowning, Tony looked from Oz to Rich and back again. “You definitely didn’t get your robust and verbose language skills from either me or your mother.”

Oz and Rich both chuckled.

“See.”

“Hey, it’s cool Mr. Stark—”

“Call me Tony. I insist.”

“Sure. Yeah, that’s cool.”

Tony scratched the back of his neck. “I, uh, just gotta say that, y’know, while I think your mom keeping me in the dark all this time is really, really….you know.” He couldn’t bring himself to say what he really felt about Susan’s decision, not while staring into her son’s eyes while her husband stood right there. “But I’m glad I didn’t raise you, kid. I woulda screwed you up, big time. But your parents seem to have done, y’know, a pretty decent job.”

“I think so. You woulda been okay, though.”

Tony laughed around the pressure in his chest. Oz and Rich smiled. “Look, kid,” Tony said, “if you ever need anything, like, seriously, anything at all, you can always reach out to me.”

“Yeah. Ditto.”

Tony’s eyebrows climbed. “Um, hello. Genius billionaire here. When’m I ever gonna need something from a teenager?”

Oz shrugged. “You never know.”

“Ye-ah. So. Bass guitar?”

For the first time since their initial meeting, Oz’s eyes lit up. “Yeah. You, uh, wanna see? You could meet the guys. Devon might actually know who you are.”

Tony snorted. “Sure, yeah. Yeah, let’s do this.”

Fin[ite]


End file.
